Prim's Journey
by Julie Tulips
Summary: Prim is going to District 8 to help with the building of a new hospital. Her world is thrown into chaos when the hovercraft crashes in the middle of nowhere. To get home, Primrose might also find herself in need of allies. Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Hunger Games, they belong to Suzanne Collins. The only things I own are characters not in the books.
1. Ch1: Stranded

My feet ruffle leaves as I walk back and forth. Here I'm heading to the woods. To the oak tree. Turn. Back to the smoldering, smoking ruins of the hovercraft. Past the torn-out fuel packs. Turn. Back to the woods.

I know I should be trying to keep quiet, to come up with a decent plan, to make the best of the situation. But all my body wants to do is pace. And since I could never keep quiet like my sister, the late autumn leaves crackle under my heel and twigs snap as I spin around, my hair almost hitting me across the face.

"Prim. Calm down. You've been in worse fixes," I try to tell myself. But it's a bit of a joke, because in those other situations there were always people to run to. Katniss, mostly. Mother. Gale, if all else failed. Other children from school. Buttercup. Sweet, pitiable Buttercup who's now safe and sound in District Thirteen. While I, Primrose Everdeen , am stuck in the middle of nowhere with a ruined hovercraft and a few dead crew members. Tears begin to well up in my blue eyes, which were always out of place. _No. You can't break down now. _ I mop up my face with my hair. _Not when you have to get home alive._

I go off my now memorised back-and-forth pathway and climb back into the hovercraft, carefully avoiding the bodies. It was by pure luck that I survived the crash. Odds. Which seemed to never be in my favour before.

We were heading to Eight. They needed rebel medics there. And Katniss knew I was going. At least, I hope she did. If Haymitch remembered to inform her. Or wanted to. Katniss is always complaining about the earpieces she has to wear. I'd give anything to get in touch with someone from 13 right now. It's probably hopeless. The radio signals only go that far out. Now say he was here-

I scare myself as I start. Maybe not Haymitch. But if somewhere, there was a signal… my feet carry me across the hovercraft and suddenly I'm leaning over the controls. My heart sinks. "What are you thinking, Prim?' Thoughts face through my mind. "You can't manage these in a million years."

I run my fingers over the uneven surface formed by the thousands of knobs, controls and buttons. I'm not even sure if they work, why risk it?

Instead, I go back outside, detrmined to find out where I am. I might be a mile from Eight. Or two miles from home. I can't exactly recall how long the journey was until they shot us down. I rake every tree, every rock for some sign of placement. Katniss would be good at this. She knows different forests like her own five fingers. I walk on and on until I come to a stretch of fence. But this isn't the fence of twelve. It's huge, and I'm sure I could never climb even halfway up. The barbed wire coils mencingly. And towers every mile or so keep the fence under constant surveillance. I catch the white flash of a man in a Peackeeper uniform. How many are there here? I catch myself shuddering and holding on to a branch for support.

Then my eyes turn to the left. Something's on the fence. A dead body. _No, Prim. You're just being paranoid._

I come closer to the large, cardboard sign, covered with some sort of waterproof and roent-proof oil. The sign looks like it's brand-new, although the letters have faded slightly and it's obvious this isn't novelty. The words on the sign scare me even more than if it was a corpse. Corpses I knew.

DISTRICT ELEVEN. TRESPASSING PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.


	2. Ch2: Metamorphasis

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Obviously. No copyright infringement intended by any of this.

Author's note: This is my first fanfic, so please forgive me if there are any errors in format or anything like that… other than that please R&R, if I get at least one review on this chapter I'll continue! You guys are all amazing!

I wanted to run. Run and hide in the sheets back at home, with buttercup crooning softly in my arms. With Katniss there, the smell of pine and leaves and air flowing through the cabin in gentle, steady streams that enveloped me. District Eleven. I heard Katniss and Peeta talking about it back at home. Big, armed… what else? There was a man who whistled a melody sung by Rue, the girl my sister covered in flowers…. They shot a bullet through his head-

I'm on my knees and I don't remember how. Am I praying? No. More like knocked down. It's happened to me before. I was going to the Hob with Katniss to sell my goat cheese, then a storm ravished the district, and we were still far from home. I was small, and terrified. So Katniss forced me down until it was over, out of harm's way. Because when I lifted my head, the tips of my braids drenched in mud, I saw that the eyeglass repair shop we were beside had a missing door and a broken window.

I sit on my knees on the quilt of leaves, the frayed edges tickling my pants and the twigs poking me uncomfortably. All of a sudden, I'm not myself, but the man, and there's a gun pointed at my head. I blink. Just a tree. But that's just what will happen if any Peacekeeper or Capitol person walks out past the fence and sees the Mockingjay's sister. Perfect bait.

I shudder as my hands go around my body. My cold fingernails bring no warmth or comfort. But they need to hold on to something, my own flesh, if I want to stay sane.

_What would they say, Prim?_ My eyelashes flutter and a few gasps of shock leave my paralysed lips at last. What would they say? Be strong and brave? Hide and don't take risks? Stay in the hovercraft? It's too late anyway?

No. I've given the answer to my sister myself, didn't I? She asked what they would do to Peeta. Just last week, in lockdown, in district thirteen. And I answered, didn't I? _Didn't you, Primrose?_ _!_

_Whatever it takes to break you…_

"You may be Primrose, a delicate flower. But you're an Everdeen", I tell myself. "If Katniss can keep going no matter what they do to Peeta, you can get up onto your feet and find yourself a way out. You're not yet broken."

I get up slowly. Logic. Use logic.

I need to get to 13. Probably on foot. I can't manage on my own. I can't hunt, I don't know what to gather and I'll be dead before you can sing Katniss's lullaby. I'm going to need friends. No, useful friends. What was that word Katniss kept repeating again and again?..Right. _Allies._

If the conditions in eleven are really that bad, there must be people who are willing to rebel. Who are willing to risk everything to bring the Capitol down. Those who'd lost loved ones, and families. It's a huge district. It wouldn't be hard to find someone. The only problem is, they won't want to ally with me. It's too much of a risk. I'm the Mockingjay's sister. There must be a huge price on my golden locks, my blue eyes, my pale skin. If only I could change that, I find myself wishing. If I could just change my hair color and be someone else entirely-

I stop short. _Prim, you're insane!_ My fingers and my mind don't go together anymore. My mind is screaming for my hands to stop but they continue, taking the oil from the moss and the trees. Perfectly opaque. I scoop it up when I realise it won't be enough. My hair is too long. And if I'm recognised, I'm dead.

My feet don't listen anymore, either. They race eachother to the hovercraft, almost tripping over the threshold, and the bodies, which my unfocused mind doesn't notice. I watch in horror as my fingers pick up the scissors and a strand of golden hair falls, getting instantly tangles in the control buttons.

When I look at myself in the shards of broken mirror, I'm unrecognisable. My hair is chin-length and golden-brown. My eyebrows are dark. My hands are dirty and my fingernails are scratched and broken. My skin is slightly darker, but red and stinging in some places. Who is this person? Primrose Everdeen? I surprise myself as I give a smirk. Not a chance.

Suddenly I hear a sound. Song, really. It's a girl singing. She sound about sixteen or seventeen. Her voice is beautiful. Rolling waves over the grassy hills, the notes streaming their way through the barbed wire. Mockingjays echoing it back across the sky. I look up, and see her, sitting in a tree far away, her long, ashy red hair falling in messy clumps over her shoulders. She takes something from her pocket. It looks odd. I can't quite place it. Then the metal disk whizzes through the air in a silver flash and two apples fall to the ground, the stems cut. My lips curve in a light smile.

I think I've found myself an ally.


	3. Ch3: Alliance

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. How I wish I did.

Author's note: Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is my very first fan fiction story published and I'm so happy you like it. Thank you to the 'Anonymous User' and Innocent Primrose Everdeen for your support! The old rule continues – as long as I get at least one review on this chapter, I'll write a next one. So please R&R! Thank you!

I watch, mesmerised, as the clear sky is invaded by black and navy clouds. They consume the light, bit by bit, leaving behind a swirling mass of shadows and darkness. From the safety of the hovercraft, I'm still terrified. I hear howls and bird cries and slithers, and I huddle into a corner. I don't know how Katniss does this, in the actual forest, with weapons, without being terrified out of her wits. I press my hands firmly over my ears and close my eyes. I need sleep if I want to get somewhere.

It seems like more than few hours. Several days, maybe. A month, probably. Six hours? But the mockingjays tell me that it's morning. Mockingjays. I sit upright as I remember the girl with the knotted hair. I wonder if she's up yet. I wonder if she's willing to go. Or if she'd rather turn me in. I gulp and hold myself in my closed hands. Survival is always risky. I take my time standing up, brushing out my clothes, then opening the latch.

I step out of the hovercraft and I'm thrown backwards onto my back. The girl is pinning me to the ground, not letting me breathe, not letting me explain, not letting her unsee the capitol symbol on the hovercraft. Her voice is soft and melodic, but scary too. "Where do you think you're going, Capitol girl?"

I manage to salvage a mouthful of air and croak out an answer. "District Thirteen" I let out. "I'm not from the Capitol." She lessens her grip on my throat, giving me a moment to gasp, trying to draw in nonexistent air. I think fast. "I'm from district eight."

She's not convinced. "What's your name?" She asks sharply. "Why do you have a hovercraft"?

"We were… going to thirteen, we were rescued by the rebels, but they shot us down."

She looks at me pointedly. "Name." "Pr-" I stop. "Autumn" I let out. Autumn is a girl from thirteen. She has long dark hair and reddish-brown eyes. But she's the first one that came to my mind.

"Autumn." The girl licks her lips thoughtfully. Her black eyes continue to search my very soul as her clumped hair poses weight on my chest. Finally I feel her pull back.

"How did you get over the fence?" I can't resist asking. "What are you doing here?"

The girl looks over into the bushes and waves someone over. A boy of about sixteen or seventeen comes out, wearing white and a mask and- I feel like the girl is back on me again, but it's just the air choking me as I gaze at the peacekeeper uniform.

"B-but.. you're a Pe- You're a-" I'm unable to finish the sentence.

The girl brushes her hair behind her back. "This is Daniel. He has a birth defect that prevents him from speaking. He's my friend and a fellow rebel. There's no reason to be afraid of him. He got me out of the district." She looks down at me. "And I'm Willow."

I nod feverishly. "Willow it is."

Willow's luminous eyes travel along the thin lines of my face. " You won't make it ten miles from here."

What I want more than anything is to be able to say, "I won't make it one." Instead I force the words out of my mouth. "I will with you."

Daniel and Willow look at eachother momentarily. Then they both turn back to me, Willow still crouching down, one hand on the earth, Daniel stading upright, and simultaneously nod. I'm both elated and terrified. One thought keeps bouncing through my head, weaving itself in between every stem, every branch, the veins of every leaf.

_What have you gotten yourself into?_


	4. Ch4: Start

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Hunger Games. **

**Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I did not expect a single review as it's my first fic. Thanks to Indyracer715 and CoffeeWriterGirlLovesClato who reviewed chapters 1 and 3 most recently. The old rule continues. As long as I get at least one review on this chapter, I'll continue writing. So Please R&R!**

My pants shift over my legs as I walk. I raise my fingers to brush my braid from my shoulder, but all I feel is nothingness as my short, brown, uneven hair wipes off the dirt from my face with every step. My medicine bag slung over my shoulder, I keep my eyes on Daniel's boots, knowing Willow's right behind me. Chances are she'll just walk straight into me if I stop, her blade will slip and then- I force myself to gulp down some air. _Keep walking, Primrose._

Instead, I let my eyes sweep the scene. The soles of my sneakers sink into a mixture of uneven sand and rough, muddy soil, then propel it backwards behind me as I make the effort to rip my foot from the earth. On my left is a beach, but it isn't like those nice ones I've seen on television when they show district Four. This one is muddy and knotted, littered with rocks and twigs. On my right is a vertical pine wall, the thin trees playing with the shadows and casting them over everything. During storms, when I was very small, Father used to light a candle and make shadows of animals, birds, people, even recognisable profiles such as me and Katniss with his hands. His fingertips would be glossy from the dripping wax and his skin engulfed in delicate smoke, but it made me laugh.

The sun is well above our heads now. I wonder what's going on in thirteen right now. Do they know we've crashed? If so, I'm probably believed dead. Katniss must be in hysterics. I close my eyes trying to send her a telepathic message. She knows me so well. She'd find Primrose Everdeen anywhere. My eyes snap open and focus on my training feet. _Except you're not Primrose anymore, are you?_

Finally I can't take it anymore and I collapse onto my knees. "Can we rest? Please?" I beg. Daniel turns and looks at my sympathetically, then nods and helps me to my feet. Willow is a little more sceptical. "We've only been walking for four hours!" She snaps at me. Although she doesn't resist when I get out some canned food from my pockets.

Daniel pops a lid open and divides the food. But all I can see in his every move, the tearing of the metal foil, the careful and exact division of survival, is Katniss and Gale dividing the spoils to keep me alive. I've seen it so many times, by the edge of the woods. They came back laden with turkey and squirrels and rabbits. I wondered how they got them. Only once, curiosity got the better of me, although adventures are a struggle for me and I'm the sort of person who wants to grow old, stiching socks by a fire with a loving, normal, warm family. I climbed under the fence and went out into the woods about two hundred meters from the district. I still didn't see anything. Not a single flash of fur or the blink of a beady black eye. Not that I'd want to. Because that animal could end up in my soup the next day.

My hands take a slice of bread. Every single little thing reminds me of someone today. I take a bite of bread and I see Peeta Mellark sitting beside me, smiling and laughing with my sister. He's so much more than she thinks he is. I can't help but trust him. He has a sense of knowing right from wrong in the world. Knowing that fighting fire with fire will only create a bigger fire, and to extinguish fire you need water. Calm and steady and crystal-clear. Peeta. He risked everything to save District Thirteen, Katniss, and me. I hope he's alright.

Willow's hair blocks the sunlight as she smears spoil-proof butter on the bread, her hands moving gently but being able to throw that disk so quick. I'm not sure what to make of her. Better not to think about it when my head is aching from the blazing heat.

My fingers have just wrapped around the bread when I hear it. The snap of a gun on a shoulder. The shout. And as I catch a glimpse of deadly white through the shadowy trees I'm on my feet, Willow's already climbing and Daniel is just turning his head.

I try to climb but my muddy boot slides off the foothold I've invented in my terrified mind. Willow swings down, balancing dangerously, and her fingers close tightly around my wrist. I manage to grab hold of a thin, shaky branch with the other hand and pull myself up just as Daniel makes it to the tree.

The Peacekeepers run onto the beach, the muddy water lapping their toes. Bewildered for a moment, they look around, they spot him disappearing into the thick foliage. I scream but I feel a hand clamped tightly over my lips as the gun fires.

With some surpreme effort, Willow pulls Daniel up into the tree as the Peackeepers wait below. I'm shaking now. They don't know me and Willow are here. Do they? So what will they do? I break into a sweat as I realise what I would do. Wait us out till morning. And Daniel, heavily wounded from what I can tell from a distance, probably won't make it that long without treatment.

In my hazed mind, the sound of the gun still echoing in my heart, I hear another sound. The whizz of metal against air, and a thin flow against my cheek. I throw myself against the trunk, rustling leaves, and shut my eyes as the disk slices the Peacekeeper's neck and he falls to the ground. Dead. There's a sound of boots. I can't quite tell because my eyes are still shut. But I feel Willow lean over, take something, then hard pressure against my shoulder. I nearly fall from the tree at the gunshot. Safe for the moment, unless we had more on our tail for this long and they heard the gunfire.

My eyelids peel away and I stare at the two Peacekeepers, lying on top of each other in a pool of blood. My legs slide off the branch and I manage to swivel and land on my feet, ignoring the sharp pain of impact. I can see Willow carefully descending, helping Daniel down, blood staining his shoulder blade. As she lays him down on the greasy, rocky sand I quickly assess the damage. There doesn't seem to be a break or bone damage, but he's losing a lot of blood and I can't leave the bullet in his flesh, either. My fingers work fast, zipping off the back of the uniform and folding it against his lower back. I feel myself wince at what I have to do. This is harder than it looks. But if Katniss could deal with worse, I can do this. I'm going to be a doctor if I make it out of here alive anyway, won't I?

"Hold him still," I say quietly. It feels odd to see Willow following my orders. As I glance up I see an expression on her face that I haven't seen before. No, I have. On my sister. Twice. But I couldn't imagine it on this determined, precise girl with her matted tangle of red hair.

I take a knife from the kit and cut his flesh slightly open at the break. I can feel his body tense and hear his gasp of pain, but I can't stop. My fingertips dive into the opening. I've disinfected my fingers, of course. As I search for the bullet as fast as I can, I can hear the tickle of Willow's voice as she soothes him, tear tracks on his cheeks. "I'm sorry," I think. "but it's necessary."

I finally find the bullet and pull it out gently before disinfecting the wound and placing a few bandages to halt the flow of blood. His head is in Willow's lap and I can't help but wonder. Why is she like this? Does she know him for a long time? Has he helped her, besides leading her out of the district?

Exhausted, I wash the blood from my skin and under my fingernails. I lay on my back, making myself comfortable in the soil, watching the sunlight dance in circles across the treetops. 'Don't fall asleep, Autumn," I think, my hand reaching for the water. Then I feel my elbow drop and my eyes close as I'm propelled into a blur of color.


	5. Ch5: Struggle

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the Hunger Games.

**AN:** Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for the reviews! The chapter is a bit late but I've had a lot to do and I was waiting for reviews. Again, at least one review – one more chapter!

This one is a bit longer and includes some things you may find interesting, and ends on a sort of cliff-hanger. This is because I'm leaving on vacation for a week. I've left you with plenty to read and review. I hope I get at least one in an entire WEEK. And I'll gladly continue the FanFic after I get back.

You guys are awesome, please R&R and I hope everyone has a great week!

~Julie Tulips

My dreams are disturbing and horrifying. They literally scare me out of my wits. But they always do. That's what nightmares are there for. I've wondered if they actually serve a purpose in our mind. Maybe they help us overcome our fears? Show us the future? Everything has a purpose. Today, though, in the drifting heat, when the sun itself seems to be melting, I know they serve only one purpose – to slowly and painfully lead me down the curvy road to insanity.

My mother, as she was when Father died. Sitting on a chair, expressionless, her eyes not bright blue to match mine but hollow, black, and empty. Not grieving. Not hating. Not loving. Empty.

Katniss is back under sedation. I've worked so hard to get her off of it. To help her regain her sense of self. But in my dream, she screams and turns, caught in shadows that try in vain to quench her pain.

If these were just dreams, I could say I had an uneasy sleep. What sends icy chills down my spine is that they're real, it's happening now, because my mother and sister think I'm dead. I force myself not even to think of Buttercup.

I awake from someone shaking me. I feel the sharp fingertips and the clumps of hair on my face and know it must be Willow. I get up groggily and brace myself. "Do you have any idea how late- " My mind isn't focusing. Late? Who cares if it's late? We're safe, after a few more hours we'll go home and I'll milk Lady and- Wait. No. Late! I sit up hurriedly.

Willow sits back, swinging her chunks of hair behind her head. "It's okay, you don't have to freak out. We're overnighting here anyway, Daniel can't walk yet, I've looked around from a tree and it's the only drinkable water for miles. We just need someone to keep watch."

I sigh groggily. "Really? You just had to wake me up-"

-One more comment like that and consider yourself dead, Autumn.

I stare at her, then my eyes drop to the sand between my fingers, now damp from the evening moisture and the high tide. I just can't understand this girl. I think there's a whole crowd inside of her. I've met a few people. The careful ally. The defender. The vicious killer. The one to fear. And then that new girl, kneeling on the beach with a Peacekeeper boy's head in her lap, stroking away the strands of his hair. I can't find a spot for her in Willow's book. Was she even real? In this heat and haze I may have just imagine it in my whirlwind mind. Yes, that's probably it.

I accept a bite of bread and sit on the earth, my feet bended in front of me and one of my hands fiddling with my hair as usual. My fingers stick together after a while and I wonder if I've got sap in my hair from the pine tree earlier, as the forest stretches on in one unbroken façade down the crescent beach. Then I see the golden brown tint on my fingernails. I jerk my hand from my hair and busy myself braiding some pieces of grass together. I try to imagine it's my hair. Or Katniss's hair. Or my mother's, or Buttercup's fur, or – a few dew-colored tears draw streaks on my dirty cheeks and I wipe them off, smudging the earthy tint over my face. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!

Who am I to lie like this? I've never lied before! I admitted to everything, from helping a boy prank the teacher by standing guard in the hall, under threat of being made the class joke, to taking bread from the 13 kitchens. What happened to me? What happened to Prim? Suddenly I'm a liar, a phony, a sort of spy almost, with chopped hair artificially colored and the tanned skin. I'm reminded of the Capitol. The place my sister despises, and that I despise, too, for everything they did to her, to Peeta, to Twelve, to me. Aren't they the ones who always change the way they look, coloring their hair and skin and eyes, making themselves unrecognisable? Yes, I'm doing it for a cause. Except I'm not. I'm doing it to save myself, being a selfish, determined Capitol brat... I wonder if they'll hate me if they find out. Willow will throw my in the lake, that's no question as I've told her I can't swim. Daniel might not, but I don't really know him. He can't talk to me, can he? I hardly know a thing about him. It hits me I know nothing about him, nothing at all…

I edge towards him as Willow arranges a fire. "Hey," I breathe.

He looks at me, sits up wincing a bit and nods in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry you got hurt," I say. He shrugs like it doesn't matter in the least. I start with the basics. "How old are you?" His finger travels through the wet sand, grooving lines as the tiny rocks and flecks of mud spit out to the side. 17. "Aren't you young to be a Peacekeeper?"

He looks around then whistles a short tune. A mockingjay flies out of a nearby pin and lands on his arm, beginning to mimic. I understand. _The Mockingjay's young, too._

I smile. Mockingjays always make me smile. Father taught me a few songs, as did Katniss. I heard her sing one on a tape, though, and I've never heard it before. Listening to the lyrics, I understood why. The Hanging Tree is something I'd definitely repeat as a child.

I decide on something different. This isn't one of my father's tunes, rolling through the district, bringing life to the cold mines and the icy morning air. This isn't a song Katniss sung to me, stroking my cheek on a pillow. This is something of mine. Something I've written while wiping down Father's mirror, making his bed, and letting air to his closet every morning for the past six years. I slowly begin to sing, and the mockingjay doesn't stop to listen because my voice isn't that good. But eventually it captures its attention as I grow louder and it looks at me, scraping Daniel's palm slightly. Just like Katniss, in an odd way. Mockingjays are so similar…

The tune is simple and easy to follow. I'm not one to invent complicated, elaborate trills.

_Dusty floors are clean anew_

_Windows stained with morning dew_

_Why aren't you here_

_My hand grasps the air_

_Everything's ready for when you come home_

_Your eyes are shining in the skies_

_Fingers looping in with mine_

_I need you here_

_My face stained with air_

_Everything's ready for when you come home_

_Your breath softly on my cheek_

_It's been a day, it's been a week_

_I'm dying down here_

_In the autumn air_

_I suddenly doubt that you'll make it home_

_I run out onto the wooden porch_

_My heart lit with a burning torch_

_My fingers feel air_

_You'll never be here_

_But everything's ready for you to come home_

The mockingjay sings my song, the notes are too high-pitched and out of tune. I'm not a singer like my sister. But the words sent tears down my cheeks and I'm crying over my own lyrics. I can't do this. He never lied. Not to me. And here I am, under another name, one he never whispered before leaving for the coal mine that ended up killing my seven-year-old world…

I settle by the fire, the smoke blurring the landscape and my eyes squinting. I sit there for what seems like several days of heat and ash floating in the gathering breeze, but must've been five minutes, when I hear a yelp behind me. The mockingjay flies off in fright and Willow screams. "Autumn, you're on fire!"

I jump up and clap my hands over the bottom of my shirt, but the flames are licking my shoulders and blinding pain is spreading through my veins. Willow takes my hand and pulls me headfirst into the lake, then before I can drown helps me to shore where I am, painting and gasping for air.

I look at her and manage to regain speech. "Thank y-" Then I start coughing and lose the rest of it.

Something's wrong about her face. It isn't elated or angry or ironic as I thought it'd be. It's perplexed. At first I'm not sure what's wrong. Then she runs her fingers down a strand of my sopping hair and stares as the brown spreads over her hand, a few strands of blond gleaming in the evening sun.


	6. Ch6: Revelation

**AN:As I said, I post chapters when I get at least one new review. My latest chapters have got not a single review. I know this is my first fic, but I'd really like to have someone reading if I'm making the effort to write. I'm going away to camp for three weeks and when I'm back I really hope I have a few reviews, at least one. Then I'll continue. It's really not that much to ask. So please Read and Review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Willow's dark eyes pierce me. It's odd how she can do that. Usually, when someone is trying hard to see below the surface of someone else's being, recognise the exact shades of the twists of a person's soul, it's highly uncomfortable. Autumn's eyes don't just make me uncomfortable – they cause me pain. Real, tangible pain that starts at the top of my eyelids and surges like a lightning bolt through my body. I can feel my heart shriveling slowly and wonder what would happen if she kept looking at me. I have an odd intuition that I might drop down dead.

I try to pull my eyes away from that deadly gaze. Interest myself in a stem. Watch the clouds. Examine my hands like I've never seen them before. Every time, my eyes are pulled once again to the deep ocean of Willow's eyes like a magnet. I just can't look away.

After an eternity of agony, trying to break away from it and being steered back in, she speaks. Her voice is hardly even annoyed or angry. It's straight and to the point. She wants to know if I'm an ally or someone she should kill instantly. I can feel it in her dry voice.

"Why would you do that, Autumn?"

Her use of my fake name sends a fresh wave of electricity through my veins. My hair is now dripping wet as she forcefully tore the remains of the brown tint from it, and I can see a few strands of golden-blond framing my face, now clean from dirt and fresh.

I think fast. If I want to make it to thirteen, I have to keep this act up. I need to be stronger than a pair of dark-brown eyes . I feel my lips part for the beginning of a fake explanation and then I break down.

The tears sting my raw face and wash away the last of my disguise. I'm surprised they didn't recognise me yet. Then again, I'm never filmed. They'll have to know. I can't do this. I don't know what makes me do it. Is it because I'm too strong to lie, or too weak to keep going? The truth both calms me and burns like acid.

"I..I'm not Autumn… That's not my name-" I manage to get out without choking myself. _Pathetic._

Willow seizes my shoulders tightly, her fingers digging into the straps, then I feel them loosen. Daniel, the peacekeeper, isn't angry or violent. There's an odd look in his eye. It's curious, and… is my broken mind playing tricks on me? Amused?

Willow sighs slightly. "What's your name, girl, where are you from, and why did you decide to change the way you look?

I take a deep breath. "I'm from district twelve, now a refuge in district thirteen. We were flying to district eight and we crashed, I survived by a lucky accident. I'm trying to get back to thirteen, just like I told you. But I couldn't tell you my name because.. because you'd never ally with me. There's a price on my head and no one would put themselves in voluntary danger…"

Willow takes a long, calculating look. "What's your name?" She asks flatly.

I can feel the thin stream of breath on my wet lips as I whisper. "Primrose Everdeen."

I try to take the words back as Willow's eyes widen and she falls to the grass in a dead faint, her hair spilling over her loosened hands.


	7. Ch 7: Meeting

**AN: Yes, I do have an excuse for not posting for SO LONG. It's something called Writer's Block.**

**This is the one story that isn't planned out, that I make up as I go.. and I needed all this time to find th slightest inspiration. Having said that, I am very sorry – I'm in high school and work is driving me crazy…**

**I hope you enjoy this and I'll be updating much more often from now on. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! As usual – One review, one new chapter.**

**Thank you and I hope you like it! ~JT**

_And we're walking again._

Willow and Daniel haven't talked to me in a few days now. The moment Daniel's shoulder had healed enough to allow him to move, even with pain, he got up, pulled Willow up, put his arm around her hips in a gesture that couldn't escape my eyes, and we started walking. I feel the clink of the empty water bottles, the weight of the backpack on my back. Then again, I don't complain – if Autumn could, Primrose certainly cannot.

She yelled at me for hours – for lying to her, for not trusting her, then for trusting her. I didn't get it, so I eclipsed everything she was saying and thought of safety in district13. At least they didn't abandon me.

_Clink, clink, clink._

_Primrose Everdeen, you're a liar, liar, liar…_

I yell "Shut up!' at my brain. Only when Daniel and Willow both turn do I realise I yelled it out loud.

Then we hear it – a sudden, sharp crunch from the direction of the forest. Willow snaps around, drawing something that vaguely resembles a crossbow, but with knives instead of arrows – I cringe at the very sight. To imagine what that could do to someone… I turn in the direction of the woods. Maybe it's a deer or something.

Willow dives into the foliage. I think she intends to hunt down the animal and bring it back as meat. I almost begin to cry, like I used to at Katniss's hunting exploits, but then stop – it is, really, the only way we'll get any food at all.

A moment later, I hear a cry. What startles me is that it isn't an animal one – it's very much human.

Without hesitation, I run.

The twigs slap me across the face, leaving bloody marks on my cheeks as I fight my way through the pines. Then I see them – an angry Willow shaking a boy, about fifteen. He's a bit taller than me and has dirty brown hair. I think he's crying.

"You're a traitor, aren't you?! A spy!" Screeches Willow, throwing back her fiery red clumps of hair. "You came to show them the way!"

The boy shakes his head really hard, like a six-year-old. I can see tears in his eyes and I notice his shirt is on backwards. Something isn't right…

I go in between them and spread my arms, shielding the boy. "Come on, let him speak, give him a chance – "

She screams. "Get away from here, you dirty little – "She sighs, finally calming down. "Everdeen, get away from him. And you – " She nudges his chin with the tip of the knife-crossbow, causing him to flatten against the tree in fear – "Speak. Who are you?"

"Name's Ash, miss."

It's an odd reply. I pull him away from Willow by the wrist, and then I notice a bracelet on it. Boys don't wear bracelets normally, and neither do girls in this sort of position.. in the Capitol, maybe. Then I notice lettering on the bracelet.

_Ash Kingston, Psychiatric Hospital #76. Mentally disabled from village bombing. Use caution._

I stare at him. So he's partially insane… but he seems so much more rational than any of us. Willow, whipping her knife at branches near us in her fury – Daniel, seemingly watching a rose-tinted movie of life – Katniss, shooting down birds and screaming in her sleep every night, Mother, drowning in darkness constantly… even me, thinking changing my hair color will change my identity.

I should be in a hospital right now, not him..

I hold him close for protection. "Back down, Willow, he's harmless…" I angle the bracelet so she can read it. Once she does, she lowers the point of the knife.

"You're not suggesting carrying him along, are you?"

"What else?"

"It's another mouth to feed."

"I'll share with him."

I don't know why I'm sticking up for him – I just know that, were I insane, and some girl not wanting to share a pint of water, I'd hate her and I'd make sure she knew it, too.

…

Ash mutters in his sleep. Soft murmurings of nothingness. I catch the words "mum", "Airborne", "Sinnibury". Then I gently lay my arm around him, like a lost dog, and sing Katniss's lullaby. Without the words, he wouldn't understand anyhow...

Then, almost as if because of my touch, his whispering begins to make sense. _"Mum, I miss your cooking,"_… _"Dave, give it one more shot!"… _And then, in some practically delirious fantasy,

"_Thank you, Primrose."_


End file.
